


P&P

by Star7



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star7/pseuds/Star7
Summary: Sendoh, owner of the Pony & Paddle BDSM club, receives an unusual gift in the post from his rival. Will he rise to meet Fujima's challenge?A fic in response to the SD Yaoi Facebook Group Valentine Fic Challenge 2019. Prompt: Surprise! Sorpresa!This chapter is a start/experiment, not a completed fic atm. Let me know if you're interested and whether I should continue ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I am nooooooo expert in BDSM xD Everything I know is from the manga House of Stars LOL constructive feedback most welcome.
> 
> Please visit us at https://www.facebook.com/SlamDunkYaoi ;)

**P &P  
Pilot Chapter**

Sendoh Akira had his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair comfortably, blowing smoke across the room when there came a knock at the door. His eyes moved lethargically towards the wooden frame.  
“Yes?”  
His voice was not loud, yet it curled like old liquor, warm and rich.  
His manager looked around the door. “Boss? There’s… something here for you.”  
Sendoh raised one eyebrow. Something in Mitsui’s voice suggested that this wasn’t just any old thing. No box of supplies or latest sample from the manufacturers. “It’s come from the Pink Club,” he added.  
Sendoh waved one hand. “Then bring it here.” Mitsui obediently withdraw.  
He waited idly, listening to the grunts from outside as something heavy was carried towards the door. In the frame, the strong figure of Akagi appeared lifting up one side of the box whilst Mitsui struggled with the other. It was of notable size, decorated with a bow and an envelope upon which was written his name, the whole thing wrapped in pink paper decorated with hearts.  
Surprised, Sendoh finally lowered his feet from the desk and stood up from the chair, coming around the mahogany table and looking down at the box intrigued.  
Beside him, Mitsui straightened. Akagi, however, dropped to his knees and set his forehead against the floor in supplication. The soft creak of leather accompanied his movements. Sendoh ignored them both.  
He reached for the card and tore the envelope open. His gaze roamed over the contents of the letter curiously, his eyes slowly widening.  
“Well?” Mitsui queried, unable to resist asking.  
_“To The Owner of The Pony and Paddle, my dearest friend Akira Sendoh,_ ” Sendoh read aloud. “ _Happy Valentines Day. I enclose a challenge for which, should you succeed where so many others have failed, you may retain ownership of this gift indefinitely for your own personal use with many gracious returns. I will call upon you within fourteen days to assess your success in a manner of my own choosing. Should you fail, I will find it necessary to have the gift returned to me. However, I have every faith in you and your uniquely famous skills. Kind regards, Kenji, The Pink Club Management.”_  
Mitsui tilted his head curiously, and his long, shoulder-length hair swung gently with the motion. “What does it mean?”  
Sendoh scowled a little. “It means Fujima wants me to do his dirty work for him. That sniffy little gangster. Open it.”  
“Akagi, open it,” Mitsui sent the still-prostrating slave the order, and Akagi obediently did as asked. His large hands tore the paper apart silently and lifted the flaps of the box to reveal…  
Sendoh sighed.  
The boy was shaking helplessly. He’d been forced into a face-down position, with his knees spread like a splayed frog. His arms had been pulled up and back behind his head, lashed tightly at the elbows, pulled back by leather thongs towards his ankles so that his body was pulled into a helpless backward bend most uncomfortably, his stomach pressed hard against the floor of the box. There was a hood over his face with only two small holes at the nostrils for breath. The large pool of saliva that had run down his chest and collected on the floor suggested that under the mask he was ball gagged as well. The soft hum of a vibrator came from his plugged anal passage, the device held securely in place by leather straps that meant the boy could not hope to expel it from his body.  
Mitsui winced a little at the sight.  
With a roll of his eyes, Sendoh reached down to release the binds holding the vibrator in place and gently pulled it free. It came out with a wet, sucking noise. He held it disapprovingly in his hand, long, black and studded, and found the switch to silence the hum. Below, an anxious groan came from the bound boy, his anal muscles still spasming helplessly before their eyes.  
“Honestly,” Sendoh grumbled. “How long has he been in transit?”  
Mitsui shrugged. “Couple of hours, maybe.”  
“They’re gonna damage him doing things like this...” he eyed the boy curiously. “But just look at him, Hisashi,” Sendoh let his eyes crawl over the naked skin and firm muscles wondrously. “Isn’t he beautiful?”  
He reached out a hand and settled his fingers gently on the pale flesh of one bound thigh. The boy jerked violently at the contact.  
“Maybe. But he’s not broken in,” Mitsui pointed out sceptically.  
Sendoh crouched beside the box, considering the arched back, delicate fingers, and flawless white skin of the boy. “Well, that’s the challenge, isn’t it?” He stood up again. “Ok, let him out but don’t release his hands or the hood. We don’t know his temperament yet. He might cause us trouble. Can you ask Sakuragi to come here too? We might need an extra pair of hands if he tries to evade us.”  
“All right. Akagi, let’s go.”  
The large slave looked up towards his master adoringly and, as Mitsui strode towards the door, crawled after him on his hands and knees.

* * *

A short while later and the newcomer was bound to a chair in Sendoh’s office. The chair itself was unusual in that it had a vertical phallic knob set in the centre of the seat, onto which the boy’s rear opening had been impaled. He had struggled ferociously, as Sendoh had expected, but was not enough to overpower the four of them working together. They bound him tightly to the seat by his wrists, ankles and thighs, with additional thick straps across his torso. Though they had not removed his hood, Sendoh secured a dog collar around his neck, at the front of which was a silver hoop. This hoop he tied by a short rope to the front of the seat, forcing the boy into a forward position, and ensuring that he couldn’t move.  
The boy groaned helplessly.  
“Hmm...” Sendoh walked a circle around him a couple of times, his eyes picking out the marks on his skin. Any time he reached out to touch him, the boy would jerk in alarm or fear. “Look at this, what do you think?”  
Mitsui and Sakuragi came closer to examine the boy’s back where the marks of lashes stood out as red welts on his skin.  
“They tried to break him by force?” Sakuragi suggested, leaning down to peer closer. “Some of these are bad, look here...” he brushed his fingers over a particularly nasty welt. “That’s not leather, they did that with metal. Probably a stud at the end of the lash.”  
“But Fujima’s no amateur,” Mitsui pointed out. “Why would he do something like this?”  
“Who knows? Sakuragi, let’s see him then.”  
Nodding, Sakuragi retrieved a pair of scissors and cut away the binds that held the hood tight at the back of the boy’s head, loosening it until he could seize it at the top and drag it up and off his face.  
He did not disappoint.  
The ball gag in his mouth was frothy with saliva, his white teeth showing like a snarl. His eyes a little wild, ferocious and angry. He glared at them all furiously. But his hair was rich and silky and fine, his features exceptionally handsome with high cheek bones and delicate structure, and his eyes... an astonishing blue.  
“Wow,” Mitsui commented shortly. “Now that’s quite a prize.” His eyes roamed over the now-exposed boy’s face and body hungrily.  
Sendoh was equally astonished. The boy was exceptional beyond anything he’d seen before. His body alone was remarkable but… his face too? With eyes and a burning spirit like that? Who was he to resist? No wonder, he thought, Fujima sent him as a tantalising gift. He knew Sendoh wouldn’t be able to resist this.  
“I know who this is,” Sakuragi realised suddenly, also staring in wonder at the bound and helpless creature before them. “Isn’t he that banker’s kid? You know? What’s the name of that family now?”  
“Rukawa,” Mitsui supplied.  
“Right,” Sakuragi snapped his fingers. “Rukawa.”  
Sendoh glanced up at them. “Are you serious?”  
“Definitely. They showed his picture on the news. I wouldn’t mistake him. I remember thinking he was fucking hot.”  
“Great,” Sendoh rolled his eyes. “What the hell is Fujima thinking? Sending us something like this? We should send it back. I don’t want to get involved with any of that gangster stuff.”  
“Come on, look at him,” Mitsui protested, gesturing with one hand. “Aren’t you even a little bit keen to work him over?”  
Sendoh shook his head resolutely. “No, thank you. This is a poisoned apple for sure.”  
“But,” Sakuragi protested, “look at what they’ve done to him. Forget damaging him, if you send him back, they’ll probably kill him if they carry on like this.”  
Sendoh glared at him. “That’s not my problem.”  
“Don’t you have a heart?” Mitsui pointed out. “Fujima’s terms are clear in the letter, right? If you can break him in, then you get ownership. All you have to do is pass his test, whatever it is, and then you can choose to… just let him go, if that’s what you want.”  
“Eugh!” Sendoh threw up his hands irritably. He took the scissors from Sakuragi’s hand and went around to the side of the boy. Gripping the strap of the gag in his fingers, he put the scissors carefully against his cheek – the boy froze at the cold touch of the steel – and cut through the leather. The boy spat the thing out onto his lap at once with a gasp.  
His head lifted at once and he met them all with a furious stare. “Let me go, you fucking psychopaths.”  
Mitsui sighed, a little theatrically. “Damn. And to think how beautiful he was before he opened his mouth.”  
“ _Fuck_ you!”  
“No, little fox, that’s our line,” Sakuragi said with a smirk, folding his arms across his leather-clad chest, the dom-style studs on his tight clothes prickly in the light of the room, the whip at his waist prominent in his stance. “We’re not the ones being fucked by a chair right now.”  
The boy – Rukawa – squirmed angrily at that. The discomfort of the wooden post inserted deep into his cavity being brought back to his attention.  
“Maybe he’s just not slave material?” Mitsui suggested. He gestured vaguely towards Akagi who was crouched at his feet, “not like this good one here.” Akagi looked up at him, seemingly inordinately pleased to hear the praise. Mitsui offered him one leg, and Akagi bent forward at once, eager to press his tongue against’s Mitsui’s boot. He licked it as if it were candy. Mitsui rested his other foot on the slave’s broad back casually.  
Sendoh dragged his chair around from the far side of the table and sat in it, directly opposite Rukawa who glared at him, still unable to move.  
“Do you understand your position?” Sendoh asked him. “You can stay here with us, or I can send you back to Fujima. What do you prefer?”  
“Let me fucking go!”  
Sendoh sighed. “I can’t do that. You belong to the Pink Club. I’m gonna guess they paid a sweet penny for you, too. I let you go, and then Fujima wants my head on a platter so, that’s not going to happen.”  
Furious, Rukawa glared at him, but said nothing.  
“The best thing,” Sendoh suggested, “is that you just cooperate with me. I’ll put you up, and then in a couple of weeks when Fujima comes back, you act like my slave for whatever it is he has in mind, and then after that you’ll really belong to me. Then I can let you go home or do whatever you like. How about it?”  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
“Oh?” Sendoh steepled his fingers. “It sounds like a really good deal to me. What’s the problem?”  
“You’re a fucking liar,” Rukawa spat at him. “You’re all fucking liars. Let me go? As if. You don’t think I’ve heard that before? Let me fuck you, they say. Suck my dick. Let me beat you. Scream for me. Do it and then I’ll let you go. But did they? Did anyone ever let me go? No. And you. You’re no fucking different. You ask me to humiliate myself for you, then you’ll say that you own me? Fuck off. You’re all just fucking perverts.”  
Sendoh lowered his eyes and gave a resigned sigh.  
Mitsui and Sakuragi exchanged glances.  
“So uhm-” Mitsui tilted his head. “You want me to send him back to Fujima?”  
Sendoh didn’t respond for a long moment, his eyes lost in shadows as he thought it through. Fujima’s so-called challenge. He realised that he understood the nature of it now. He recognised that the marks on the boy’s skin were a threat. A clever little way to ensure that Sendoh would be trapped in the game. And then, the ultimate prize – a completely undefined test of success. Fujima could demand anything – any kind of performance he wanted and should it prove impossible, the rights to the boy remained with Fujima, and Sendoh would lose out on whatever progress he may have made. And two weeks. Two weeks was a short time by any standards.  
_Very clever_ , Sendoh thought to himself.  
_You want me to do the work for you, and reap the benefits for yourself. Suppose I break him, but you demand an impossible task. Then you get an exquisite slave for yourself._  
_Supposed I refuse to participate, then he’s worthless to you, and you kill him._  
_I ask him to cooperate with me for his own sake and he refuses._  
_Damn you, Kenji._  
_There’s only one thing I can do, isn’t there?_  
“Well?” Mitsui pressed him.  
Sendoh looked up at him, and shook his head slowly.  
“No...” he muttered. “...we can’t send him back.”  
“Then what are you going to do?” Sakuragi demanded.  
Sendoh lifted one brow, meeting Rukawa’s eyes calmly. “I’m going to break him,” he announced quietly.  
Rukawa hissed at him like a spitting cat. Sendoh leaned back and smiled confidently.

-tbc???


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukawa gets ready for his first night as a guest at the P&P

**The Pony and Paddle  
Chapter 2**

He was to share a room with the hulking great monster Akagi. He’d struggled, but they’d expected that, and hadn’t released his hands. At least they hadn’t gagged him again, he supposed. He was left in the room, still naked apart from the cuffs.

Mitsui had whispered briefly to Akagi who had nodded in comprehension, and then they’d left, only Rukawa and this giant remaining behind.

He’d hoped that upon getting into his room he’d be able to come up with a plan, a means of escape, or something. But Akagi was so large he filled the doorframe, top to bottom, side to side. There was no physical hope of fighting him. No way. Not with his hands bound like this.

And despite being a sub, Akagi was clearly no pushover.

Rukawa tugged again at the binds which kept his wrists locked together behind his back, but they still wouldn’t give. He was angry about it, but luckily it wasn’t uncomfortable. His muscles still ached horrendously from the awful journey he’d endured, he felt furious just thinking about it. Two hours of sheer hell. Once he finally got the chance, he was going to punch Fujima Kenji in the mouth and hopefully knock out all those pretty little teeth. He assumed someone would stop him before he was lucky enough to kill the bastard.

He looked around. The room they were in had a set of twin beds, and other basic necessities. Marks on the floor showed that the furniture had been rearranged quite recently. Now Akagi’s bed was on the side close to the door, and Rukawa’s further away against the wall, presumably to prevent him trying to sneak out at night. The furniture was wooden. The sheets clean and simple. The walls a warm yellow. Apart from the fact that he was stark naked and cuffed, while the man in the doorway was dressed in little except tight leather straps and a minute pair of leather pants, it didn’t appear any different from your average, everyday shared accommodation. 

Rukawa attempted to glare at Akagi.

“Let me out,” he demanded.

Akagi slowly shook his head. “I’m to keep you here and help you dress,” he said. “And you will sit with the Master for dinner.”

_The Master._

Rukawa tried to recall the three idiots who had impaled him on that chair. The way they’d trailed around him, examining him like a farm animal at an auction. They’d all been doms. He didn’t have a great deal of knowledge about these things, but even he had learned a little something from his miserable time under Fujima’s thumb.

Doms were bastards who got themselves off on making you scream.

Slaves were the fools who were stupid enough to think that if they played along they’d have it easier.

Rukawa had never played along. Never. When Fujima had gotten tired of his refusals he’d just kept him gagged. They could force him to kneel and they could beat him. They’d hurt him, they’d raped him, but they’d never succeeded in making him call _anyone_ “master”.

Rukawa continued to glare at Akagi. “Just let me go,” he snarled. “Why do you do whatever those bastards tell you to do?”

Akagi tilted his head slightly as if the question didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t reply.

A quiet knock sounded on the door behind him, and with his gaze lingering on Rukawa’s face, a quietly warning against causing trouble in his eyes, he turned to open it, and accepted the box that was passed to him.

Upon closing the door he opened the lid and looked inside. “You’ll wear this,” he announced.

“I doubt it,” Rukawa snarled right back.

Akagi brought the box to the bed and, as Rukawa watched with great suspicion, began to unpack the items inside, placing each one by one onto the bed. 

It was, as Rukawa had rather expected, all leather. Tight and black. A tank-style top that would fully cover his upper body, leaving his arms bare. A pair of leather shorts that wouldn’t stretch down to cover much more than the top of his thighs. Finally, a pair of tall boots that rose to mid-thigh.

“I won’t wear that,” Rukawa snarled, trying to maintain his outrage. But the truth was, looking at the clothing he had been provided with, he was well aware that it could have been worse. Much worse. At least he would be mostly covered up. And there were no studs or hoops or collars. Nothing that could obviously be used to restrain him. Nothing that looked like it could be tightened to the point that he’d pass out. The leather was plain and soft and hardly nefarious.

“Then you’ll go naked,” Akagi responded simply. Absolutely nothing about his manner suggested that this was an empty treat.

Rukawa ground his teeth.

Akagi gestured to the bed. “Sit,” he instructed him.

Making a great show of reluctance, Rukawa perched on the bed and glared at Akagi while the large man took each item in turn and gently began to dress him. In the end he could only bite the inside of his cheek and tolerate the situation. There was little Rukawa could do himself with his hands still tied.

The top was drawn closed with laces at the back, making it possible to put on and remove without untying his hands. Akagi silently pulled it tight and laced it up dexterously. Rukawa felt it take hold of him, warming almost immediately to his skin, holding him securely. The shorts were tight and required Rukawa’s cooperation to get them on. Like the top they were laced closed, though this time at the front, and Rukawa could only bite his lip and grimace as Akagi’s hands worked so close to his private parts, inadvertently brushing against him now and again and causing Rukawa’s stomach to lurch anxiously. The boots were a bit of a struggle too, and he had to press his feet into Akagi’s palm attempting to get them to fit. At least, Rukawa consoled himself, no one would be able to get him out of them particularly fast. Unless, he recalled miserably, they happened to have scissors. 

But even though Akagi’s hands moved over him with necessarily intimacy and Rukawa glared at him with great suspicion, considering the nature of the fabric and the design of the clothes, he was never intrusive. He took no advantage of Rukawa in his helplessness. His large hands were warm and soft, brushing only when necessary over Rukawa’s sides, his legs, his back, but never lingering. Never intruding.

It had been a long time since Rukawa had felt a touch that wasn’t cruel. Despite himself he realised he didn’t wholly dislike this man.

When Rukawa was fully dressed, Akagi stood back to survey him and nodded. “Good,” he decided. “You look good. The master will be pleased.”

Rukawa glanced down at himself. As expected, he was mostly clothed. Everything was as good as skin tight, showing off the shape of his body, and yet comfortingly covering. Only his arms, the thinnest line at his midriff, and a small two inch gap between the top of the boots and the bottom of his shorts revealed the whiteness of his skin. 

But...

_The Master._

Rukawa couldn’t help the ugly scowl that crossed his lips. He recalled that arrogant bastard who’d smirked at him and pronounced his intention to break him. He hadn’t been wearing gear like the rest of them had. He’d worn a suit and a tie and an infuriating smirk on his face. The other two… the red-headed douchebag and that long-haired prat who seemed to be Akagi’s master… had been dressed as Rukawa had expected in the same sort of leather that most of them wore. But that other guy… that… awful… smug-faced piece of…

He realised that Akagi was staring at him curiously.

“What?” he snapped at him.

Akagi narrowed his eyes as if trying to work him out. He folded his arms across his huge chest and tilted his head.

“The master said you had been _bought_ ,” he said finally. “Is that true?”

The look on his face was one of concern. Rukawa narrowed his eyes, gave a shrug, and looked away.

“That’s…” Akagi frowned deeply, “That’s... not right.”

Rukawa’s head snapped back round to him. “Then why don’t you fucking let me go?” he retorted in frustration, getting angrily to his feet.

Akagi’s eyes were sympathetic. “Because the Master is right. Even if you walk out that door right now, you’ve still got Fujima’s fingerprints on you. You might be outside but you wouldn’t be safe. You wouldn’t be free of this. You are trapped in a world you don’t understand. If you want to get out you at least need to know how the game is played.”

“I’d take my chances,” Rukawa snarled back at him.

Akagi shook his head. “What you need is someone to help you. Someone who knows this world better than you do.”

“And I suppose you think your stupid _master_ is the right person, do you? That he’s got nothing but my best interests at heart? Fuck off.”

Akagi sighed. “No one in this club is forced to be here,” he explained. “We are all here by choice.”

“Except for me,” Rukawa pointed out scathingly. He knew how this was supposed to work. Someone to be his ‘friend’. Someone who was working for those dick bags but would try and wheedle their way into his confidence whilst at the same time selling him out. Fujima had already tried everything. He was wise to all their stupid tricks. He wasn’t going to believe anything that came out of anyone’s mouth.

“I don’t really know how you ended up in this situation,” Akagi said heavily, “and I’m sorry for it. But...”

Rukawa let out an irritated tsk and turned his head away as if disinterested in whatever Akagi was going to say.

“...whatever Fujima is pulling, you need to know that Sendoh Akira is… different. I know my words don’t count as much to you, but… you can trust him.”

Rukawa folded his arms, and did not look convinced.

* * *

Later, as the sky darkened, Akagi brought Rukawa out of their shared room and led him up to the main floor of the club.

Rukawa’s wrists were still cuffed behind him but, given the nature of the place, he didn’t look out of place at all. He looked around suspiciously. It was a rave night, and a floor of bodies were pumping to music, packed close and tight. A long bar lit with neon ran the full length of the right wall. The faces of the doms and the subs were caught ghostly in the brilliance of the neon tubes, tossing back shot glasses or sharing joints. A stage on the left had dancers dressed in more extreme gear, men and women moving sensuously to the beat of the music, some in blindfolds or even full head masks, some gagged, some with complex arrangements of bondage, one man had chains hung from his pierced nipples, one female dancer had her elbows bound together at her back in a stretch that looked incredibly uncomfortable.

It wasn’t, Rukawa felt, hugely different from what he had seen before at Fujima’s place.

His eyes lingered on some of the slaves who were down on their knees. At the bar one slave was sitting up where he knelt, his mouth open to beg for scraps of food that a dom passed down to him while he chatted with his friends.

A pair of girls holding hands and giggling with excitement brushed past him and Akagi where they stood momentarily near the doorway. Upon reaching the dance floor they turned towards one another and abruptly brought their lips together hungry and wet, scrabbling at one another as if they could sink together, rubbing and eager. Rukawa stared at them blankly. He wondered if what Akagi had said was true. Was everyone here purely by their own free choice? Was he really the only one that was here just because some shitty little gangsters had…?

“Wow...” a voice close behind him made Rukawa turn abruptly to see a tall man he didn’t know standing nearby, looking him up and down. He’d obviously just been admiring the sight of his ass in his small leather pants, framed by his wrists in cuffs. He looked up into Rukawa’s face and seemed dazed by the sight. “Well, just look at you...” he slurred, obviously a little drunk. He stepped closer, “...you… are… _stunning_.” He hiccuped loudly. “Looking for a partner, beautiful? I’ve got a rig set up at home that can milk you like a cow. I’ll exhaust you. You’ve never had anyth-”

Rukawa narrowed his eyes into a ferocious glare and was about to retort when the man was cut off by a rude hand that shoved him to the side. “Get out of here, Toru. And take your dirty mouth with you.”

Toru turned angrily towards the newcomer and Rukawa saw that it was the dom with the long hair who’d been there manhandling him earlier. Akagi’s master; Mitsui. He was dressed in a short leather jacket over tight biker-style pants. A whip, bound up into a thick wad of leather, was thrust through the belt hoops at his front, knocking against the bulge in his pants. Akagi immediately made as if to drop to his knees, but Mitsui raised a hand to stop him, and Akagi obeyed.

Toru scowled at Mitsui. “You saying he’s yours?” he demanded.

“I didn’t say that,” Mitsui smirked at him.

“Well then I’d say he has a right to decide for himself, wouldn’t you?” Toru rumbled, staggering a little and turning his eyes back to Rukawa. “Don’t waste your time with amateurs like these. I know what you want. I can give it to you like you’ve never had it before. What do you say?”

Rukawa considered him silently for a moment before taking a half step forwards as if to speak into this Toru’s ear. “Touch me,” he said coldly, “and I’ll snap your cock off.”

Toru looked astonished. 

Mitsui smirked. “You’re aiming far too high, Toru-kun,” he elbowed the man in the side. “This one’s _way_ too much for you to handle.” He turned to Akagi and Rukawa. “All right then, let’s go.”

He made as if to lead the way across the floor, but after a few steps seemed to realise that no one was following him. Rukawa hadn’t moved at all and was only staring at him with obvious dislike. Akagi remained close to him, as he had been instructed to do.

It was Mitsui’s turn to be annoyed. He returned to the two of them. “What’s the big idea?” he asked Rukawa.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Rukawa snarled at him.

Mitsui’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to make this messy,” he retorted. “But I will put a leash around your neck and drag you through this crowd if I must.”

“Just try it,” Rukawa hissed back.

“Oh ho!” Toru, who was still hovering nearby, let out a laugh. “Even the great Mitsui Hisashi is having trouble with this one. What you need is to kneel for a _real_ man, isn’t that right gorgeous?” he gave an unsightly hiccup. “Amateurs,” he repeated forcefully.

Mitsui looked irritated by the jibe. His eyes moved to Akagi still standing behind Rukawa and he gave an annoyed huff. “Pick him up and carry him, Akagi. I’m telling you I’d love to teach this bitch a lesson. A few good lashes would put him right back in his place.”

“You won’t need to do that.”

Another voice radiated from their right and they looked to see Sendoh Akira himself coming up to them and grinning in amusement. As he came through the sparse crowd of people, eyes were drawn his way and people parted naturally to let him pass. A couple of girls dressed in bondage style one-pieces that revealed perfect skin through bars of black fabric openly stared. He was dressed in a different suit than earlier, Rukawa noticed. This one was black and formal, accentuated with a small bow tie, suitable for a fancy restaurant.

“I shouldn’t need to tell you not to threaten my dinner date, Mitsui,” he added as he arrived beside them, in mild, amused rebuff.

Rukawa glared at him. He knew this trick too. Good cop, bad cop, was it? Well, he wasn’t going to fall for that, either. For all he knew they’d rehearsed this whole thing. Mitsui making threats and this idiotic white knight swooping in to supposedly save him. He wasn’t that stupid.

Toru had straightened a little. “Sendoh?” he said in surprise.

Sendoh’s eyes turned upon him and he smiled with a small tilt of his head. “Toru. Haven’t seen you here for a while. I hope you’re finding everything to your satisfaction.”

Toru did not bow in return. He only stared. “I guess I should have realised he was yours. I mean… look at him...” his eyes flashed towards Rukawa and he gave an uncertain laugh. “They do say the best demands the best, but uh it’s… rare to see you entertain a slave. Are you getting back into it then?”

“Not as such,” Sendoh shrugged, the smile not slipping from his face.

“If you… are really taking on subs I could… I mean I would… please consider...” his face had turned anxious and eager.

Beside him, Mitsui gave a visible roll of his eyes. For a moment Rukawa assumed that Toru was volunteering to help as a dom. The assumption was broken, however, when Sendoh reached out a hand to brush Toru’s cheek. He used a thumb to gently caress his jaw and Toru leaned into his touch, a little desperation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Sendoh said. “I’m really not taking on anyone right now. This… ah...” he dropped his hand and gave a sympathetic smile, “...this situation is a little delicate. He isn’t mine. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea.”

Toru stepped back. “I see,” he muttered. “Sorry for assuming I just… I just wanted to… ask.”

Sendoh’s smile was comforting. Toru dipped his head a little sheepishly and wandered away.

“Well then, may I?” Sendoh asked smoothly, turning his attention back to Rukawa as if Toru’s interruption hadn’t occurred and gently taking his arm. Rukawa only stared at him mutely. “You don’t need to be tense. It’s just dinner. Nothing else. I promise.” He smiled.

For a moment, Rukawa didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“Unless, of course… you want something more of me,” Sendoh filled his uncertain silence smoothly. “You need only to ask. It would be my pleasure to serve any of your needs.” 

Rukawa stared at him blankly. What was that… supposed to mean?

He realised that all three of them were looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Rukawa felt Akagi’s large, gentle hand settle momentarily on his shoulder and give him a supportive squeeze.

Rukawa finally shook himself and opened his mouth with the intention to spit some venomous words at them all and tell Sendoh exactly where he could shove his so-called dinner date and his miserable fucking ‘needs’, but at the moment a loud rumble came from his stomach. He immediately flushed red. 

Sendoh looked delighted. “Well, I guess that’s settled then. Dinner.”

Sendoh gently tugged on his elbow and encouraged him to walk beside him across the main floor of the club and for the moment Rukawa was too confused to do anything but allow himself to be led. The scene with Toru had unsettled him in some strange way. The man was obviously a dom. Clearly a dom. Why on earth would he actually try to offer himself as a slave to this man? 

Rukawa could sense the looming yet comforting presence of Akagi walking behind him softly. For the first time he began to wonder why would anyone ever choose to be slave. From the corner of his eye he saw Mitsui’s hand drift to Akagi’s forearm and give it a gentle, comforting stroke. There was no roughness in his touch, Rukawa noticed. Despite the sneer on his face and the whip in his belt he touched Akagi with strange gentleness.

Rukawa’s eyes narrowed and moved back to the man walking beside him.

_Sendoh Akira…_

He tried one last time to free his wrists from the binds holding him captive, but it was no good.

It seemed he would be forced to tolerate this man’s company for the evening.

-tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on this very slowly. I've got other fics taking priority at the minute. This is just a little something fun on the side. Do share your comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> Just an experiment. I don’t have time to write this right now but it’s a scenario I’ve been running through the back of my mind for a while now. Since it’s Sendoh’s birthday, I wanted to get something up and this little teaser is all I’ve got. Let me know if you like it or hate it, and I’ll put it on my list of things to do when I’ve got time.  
> I’m in the middle of writing two other senru fics at the moment, so this is gonna have to wait a bit in any case. You can find all my other many senru fictions on ffnet (Star7). Not posting this particular story to ffnet since it goes against guidelines I expect.


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